


Cry For Eden

by VolxdoSioda



Series: Kinktober 2019 [17]
Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Kinktober Day 17: Scars, M/M, background Glaivesome/Noctis
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-29
Updated: 2019-10-29
Packaged: 2021-01-08 04:01:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,161
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21229472
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/VolxdoSioda/pseuds/VolxdoSioda
Summary: Libertus hates seeing new scars on their Prince.





	Cry For Eden

Working as a member of the Kingsglaive is a messy, often thankless task. But much like a man who has to shovel shit out of the Chocobo corrals every day, it’s a task that must be done. Fighting in a war that has taken so much certainly isn’t pretty, but there’s always the future. That’s what Libertus Ostium tells himself, every time he has to fight a battle he never wanted to fight, a battle that has long stopped being about Niflheim or Lucis, and become something more about power and conquest. 

It’s not about the homes, and the people in them. It’s about territory. Niflheim is like some kind of rabid, crazed animal that regards the world as it’s property. In the recent years following their takeover of Altissia and Tenebrae, the attitudes from those corners have begun to reflect the same. Lucis is the enemy, because it’s kings hold the power to protect in their blood at the cost of their lives, because the Gods look down on those mere mortal men in favor, because they choose to believe in faith and kindness rather than power and cruelty.

Because Lucis refuses to bow to a bully. 

And maybe at some point in the dark past, Lucis started this whole thing. Maybe it was something a king or queen did to Niflheim, that they’ve been trying to pay back ever since. It’s hard to say, really. But Libertus has been fighting the fight since Galahd was conquered, fighting with a group of men and women from all corners of the world, now fights alongside those men and women, and even alongside the royalty themselves.

It had been one hell of a shock, the day he’d seen King Regis and Prince Noctis stride across the open field. The King had been conversing with Noctis, something casual-like that even now, makes Libertus’ skin crawl when he remembers it. How calmly their Shields had stopped following, the eldest putting a hand on the younger’s shoulders as their Kings had gotten further and further out, and Drautos had called on the Glaive  _ ‘fall back’,  _ and they had, all confused, all alarmed. 

And then King Regis had flicked a hand at the incoming missiles launched from MA-X Patria, and a tornado of fire had ripped through them, through the Patria, and into the units behind it. 

A single statement, made without a word. More had come, but none had made it past. In the end, Niflheim retreated once more, cowed by the power of a lone King and a Prince, who were still talking calmly like they weren’t on a battlefield. 

But Libertus had seen their eyes. Cold, vicious things, both burning bright violet. Prince Noctis had met his gaze, and inclined his head, and Libertus had felt something in the back of his mind  _ click.  _

Now, nearly two years later, that same Prince is the center of their world, usually with someone’s cock in his ass and someone else filling his mouth. The thought of that power has never left Libertus’ head, and with every new scar he finds on Noctis’ body, he’s reminded starkly that they aren’t fighting this war because they want to. Noctis is on the field as often as he is anymore; hell in some cases Libertus will cross paths with him. The power in him has only come to burn stronger since those two years, even as Noctis goes limp in their grip and lets them use him like a  _ toy. _

Right now, Libertus has him bent in half on the bed, rocking into his Prince at a pace meant to drive them both mad with want. It’s been nearly three weeks since he last had a day off, and longer still that he’s gotten a chance to have Noctis to himself. That’s the downside of living with a virtual harem of men and women who fuck at all hours - sometimes the one they want isn’t always available to just  _ them,  _ and quite frankly Libertus isn’t about to set himself down in the queue when he can just wait for another chance. 

He can feel their connection, swears that these regular encounters only makes them stronger. That there’s something in the intimacy that feeds the channel between them, makes it burn hotter, makes the magic run wilder when they’re on the field. It certainly feels like it now, with the way Noctis shivers and pants into Libertus’ mouth, rocking back to meet him. Nyx seems to move like lightning nowadays, there and gone in a flash, and Crowe’s fire burns like the Infernian himself set it ablaze. Luche’s noticed it too, brought it up once or twice in murmured conversation while the others were eating or fucking. 

Whether sex makes the connection shared with the Crystal all the stronger, Libertus can’t say. All he knows is that the sight of more scars on the Prince makes him feel nervous, because something so powerful shouldn’t be able to be killed. And that feeds into the desperation of their fucking, a desperation Noctis seems to reflect back at him, having spent the final moments of their earlier foreplay tracing hands over the newest scars on his right shoulder, the lines around his eyes pinched. In their own ways, they’re both worrywarts, fretting for the safety of the little family they’ve all become, praying to whatever Gods are listening that nobody winds up in a grave before they can make it back to Galahd.

Noctis wails as he comes, and Libertus fucks him through the orgasm even as his own overtakes him; as always there is that too-warm sensation pulsing between them like something has just been emptied, an overflowing vessel finally made hollow again, ready for the next round. Libertus lets his weight down, knowing Noctis loves the feeling, relishes in the weight of his loved ones like a treasure, contrary to Libertus, who hates pressing sweaty bodies against each other after sex. 

Freshly fucked, the Prince is a quieter creature, one more prone to honesty. So when he presses his forehead to Libertus’ and says, “I won’t let any of you go,” Libertus believes him. 

“Good,” he answers. “Because I know for a fact they’re fond of you. I’m sort of inclined to like you myself. You seem a decent fellow.”

Noctis smiles softly. “Only decent?”

Libertus kisses him to shut him up. He doesn’t have to tell any truths, not when Noctis knows perfectly well his feelings concerning them all. Noctis returns the kiss leisurely, content to be a pillow princess now that he’s gotten the reassurance he was seeking. Libertus pulls back, cracks a yawn, and forces himself to get up and go to the bathroom for a washcloth. 

He lets Noctis curl against him and go back to sleep, one hand warm over his newest scars, while Libertus strokes a reassuring hand down his spine. 

Nobody is going anywhere, if he has anything to say about it.


End file.
